At about this time we had a new Vicar at Christ Church, the Rev. Potts. His daughter, Maud, established some boarding kennels for dogs, at the Vicarage, and Dad heard that she wanted some help. I could not get there quickly enough. .
Maud had been trained in all aspects of dog care, at some large kennels, and in exchange for my help in cleaning out the kennels, feeding and exercising the dogs, she would teach me ‘all she knew’. It all seemed too good to be true, and of course it was. .
I could not have gone on indefinitely working without wages, and any knowledge gained would only have been useful if I had intended to start in the kennel business myself, but for the time being Mum and Dad said that I could do it. By this time it was April, and every morning I was at the Vicarage bright and early, eager to begin. Maud was twenty-two, tall and good-looking, with a fine sense of humor, we quickly became friends and shared the work very amicably. There were always several dog boarders staying for a week, sometimes longer, while their owners were away. The fee was seven and sixpence a week. They had good food, dry dog biscuit in the morning, and at teatime, dog meal mixed with freshly cooked meat. This came every day from the butcher, and the cook simmered it slowly all afternoon in a large pan. Every morning we went out walking with the dogs, and some afternoons there would be one or two dogs coming in to be trimmed. Maud had a special knife for doing this; there was quite an art in doing it properly. I used to watch, fascinated, but she would never let me have a go. .
Tea was at four thirty. I had mine on a bench in one of the outhouses. Hovis and strawberry jam, a piece of cake and a cup of tea. If the Vicar and his wife were out at teatime, I went in the dining room with Maud. This was a very Christian household! I hardly ever saw the Vicar or his wife, when I did they would distantly pass the time of day, but usually they pretended I was not there. One day an old lady brought her dog to stay. She was the wife of a well-known local potter, and was a familiar sight in the village, carrying the dog under her arm winter and summer, the dog was never seen walking. It was a little Maltese terrier, white, with masses of long hair, a feature of this breed. The hair grows right over their faces and has to be tied up away from their eyes, in the case of this one, with a blue satin ribbon! He had the silly sort of name you might expect, Sukie or Snookums, something like that. His owner spent half an hour explaining “he does not go for walkies, he’s not strong enough, you must carry him when he goes out for his fresh air, only putting him down for ‘calls of nature’. He has also brought his own tin of sponge cake, as he can’t eat the kind of food that big dogs eat”. Eventually, after exhorting him to be good ‘with these nice ladies, and Mummy would return for him in a weeks time’ she tearfully departed. .
Maud then said, “He must have a special bath to get rid of his fleas, I saw one or two while she was talking.” We put him in a little bath with some de-lousing shampoo and within minutes the water was covered in a thick black layer, there must have been thousands! After we had dried and combed him he must have felt much more comfortable. When teatime came we gave him a very small amount of meal soaked in gravy with a few pieces of meat. He licked the dish with evident relish. “Sponge cakes, indeed,” said Maud with disgust. We decided to walk him a little way round the garden just to let him get used to the idea, the first evening. He bobbed about joyfully at the end of the lead, reveling in his newfound skill. Gradually we walked him a little further each day, until by the middle of the week he was able to go for a reasonable walk with the others. His sponge cakes were given to the birds, and he tucked in to meat and gravy with the rest. He was a grand little dog and we hated having to return him to a diet of sponge cakes and no ‘walkies’. .
I saw the old lady one day the following winter. She was out in her fur coat with ‘Sukie’ tucked firmly under her arm, and she had a very haughty expression. I could not help smiling to myself as I thought of all the fleas! .
The bright spring mornings were perfect for walking. One of our favourite walks was to the top of the Warren, through Swallowmere Wood, which of course was filled with bluebells, and always in the distance a cuckoo calling. Buttercups sparkled in the sunshine; the air was filled with the wonderful scent of new grass, trees ferns and flowers. .
Some evenings I went to play tennis with Winnie Smith. We had joined Rode Heath Tennis Club. I was not a very good player, but I enjoyed trying. One evening I had been playing, and after rushing into the house to leave my racket, I then ran out again intending to go to another friend, Gwen Dale, but I tripped on my way and fell heavily on one knee scraping the side of my face along the road. Mum sent me to my friend Joan Barratt, in Wesley Avenue, her mother was a nurse. She bathed my face and expertly bandaged my knee. .
I was in rather a sorry state but limped off to the kennels next morning. I could not go for a long walk and Maud said I had better stay at home until I was better. Inevitably, rumour went round the village that I had been attacked by some of the dogs! What worried me most was the fact that I was being confirmed at St ‘Mary’s the next evening and would not be able to kneel down properly. However, another friend, Freda Holmes, who was being confirmed with me, came round to our house and we practiced, with me leaning on her arm, getting down on one knee. Just before the service, the ladies who were helping us to get ready arranged my headdress to partly cover my face, and with Freda’s help, all went well. Now, that same evening, after the service, the Vicar, at the Vicarage, was giving the people who were being confirmed a small book. Mum said, “You don’t need to go tonight for your book, the Vicar will understand that it is difficult for you to walk all that way, perhaps he will give it to Freda for you, or when you next go to the kennels. I did not go on the Thursday, but was feeling better by Friday and as I was cleaning out the kennels, the Vicar came to find me. He did not even say ‘Good morning’; much less ask me if I was better. He just said quite nastily, “you did not come for your book on Wednesday night, you realize that you will not get it now.” With that he walked away. I was very upset and had a little weep over my cleaning. Maud was in the house and I did not tell her. .
Shortly after this episode, the cook asked me for my address. She did it quite casually one afternoon in the kitchen, when I was sampling one of her cakes, just out of the oven. I thought she was just making polite conversation when she said “whereabouts in Alsager do you live, Brenda?” In fact the next time it was her afternoon off, she called to see Mum and told her that she had heard “Miss Maud and her mother” discussing the fact that I was very bright, and over keen to learn about the dog business, also I appeared to know everyone in the village and before long would very likely be setting up my own kennels in opposition, so mama was advising Maud to show me as little as possible if she valued her livelihood. Edith, (the cook) said that she felt bound to tell Mum what she had overheard, but begged her not to tell anyone, as it could have meant both she and her husband losing their home and job. They lived at the Vicarage, the husband looked after the gardens and did the odd -jobs, Mum assured her that she need not fear any indiscretion on her part, and thanked her very much. .
When I arrived home in the evening, Mum told me of course, and said that at the weekend I must tell Maud that ‘Mother needs you at home to help her and you won’t be going to the kennels after next week.’ I was quite upset, though I did realize that there was no future in what I was doing. I would in fact have liked to have kennels of my own but we had neither the money nor the land to make it possible. Maud was not pleased when I told her I was leaving, she was losing a very willing worker, and even those days labour did not come any cheaper than mine! However, we parted quite amicably, and once more I was faced with the problem of what I was to do with regard to some form of reasonable employment.